The first thing Ellette became aware of was the cold. She was walking, though how long she had been walking, she was unsure. From the ache in her legs, the chill that had penetrated to her bones, she’d been here for some time.

The wind’s icy fingers pulled at her hair and clawed at her face. Thrusting her hands deep into her pockets, they only seemed to make her thighs colder, rather than warm her frosty digits. Her breath came out in short puffs, ghostlike wisps, and tendrils that curled around her.

The moon hung before her, a glowing beacon. It had summoned her, she decided. The goddess of the night sky, in her full bloom, had called her out into this dark, hazy night. The hovering lantern was her guide through this eerie, dark world, shrouded in fog. The night air, consumed by a muffling haze, created a surreal sense of nothingness.

Eventually, she became aware of the sounds of water, rushing, gurgling, splashing. It was faint but grew stronger. She glanced to her right, seeing the river's glint. The moon’s glow shone across the surface, and she found herself drawn to its light, diffused as it was through the mist hanging between her and the body of rushing water.

Her feet made the move towards the edge before her mind had, and she slipped on the wet grass. She landed hard. The biting cold, the frozen ground made the impact shatteringly painful. She hadn’t even tried to catch herself, not daring to take her hands from her pockets. With a groan, she climbed stiffly to her feet, shivering as she stared out over the water.

It was a dark body of black ripples, the moon’s glow a shimmering ribbon softening the obsidian sheen. It would swallow you up if you strayed too close. She shivered at the thought.

Her teeth began to chatter and she wondered dully what she was doing at the edge of this torrent at this ungodly hour. It was then that she heard a splash, no, a chorus of sounds in the water. Her thoughts were sluggish, and it took a while before her frostbitten mind finally registered what the sound meant. Someone, something, was in the water. She stared out over the surface, fighting to find the source.

A gurgle, a slipping splish, splash. She edged closer to the current, straining towards the sound. Then she saw it, a body. A boy, no more than fourteen, his face just barely above the surface.

“Oh my god...” No sooner than the words had left her lips, she was trudging into the water. There was no time to lose, and she dove in. The pull of the current was far stronger than she’d anticipated. It wasn’t the current, though, that was her biggest obstacle. It was the numbing, freezing cold that made her limbs leaden. Each stiff, heavy, stroke was a struggle.

In the dark, despite the suffocating bite of the water, she focused on the boy. If she could reach him, it would all be worth it. The pale outline of his face was rimmed in a halo of moonlight, and hope swelled in her chest. Surely she’d reach him before he slipped beneath the surface. The moon was illuminating him for her.

Despite her delirious hope, there was no denying the pain, the strife of her swim. Her boots were blocks of cement, her leather jacket, pulling against each stroke. As cold as she’d been on the shore, she’d never considered removing them. Now, she cursed the cumbersome clothes. He was right there, right before her, and she reached out — or tried to.

Her body, it wasn’t obeying. Trembling, she struggled to reach her hand out, to grasp his shirt collar. Gasping, she reached and missed. His face slipped under the water. No. No... this wasn’t happening. She tried again, and caught cloth, and pulled. Wearily, she pulled his cold, stiff body to her, holding his head up above water.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

She smiled in triumph and turned to the shore. The shore. Where was the shore? she wondered, squinting the way she’d come. Moon, you brought me to him, no show me the way out, she prayed. Further weighted by his limp form, she began fighting her way against the current, towards the last place she’d known the shore to be. Each movement shot daggers of ice through her muscles, yet she battled on. Her breath was jagged, each gasp of air cut into her lungs. Numb as she was, she had no idea how long it took her to realize she was no longer moving.

Water slipped into her mouth, and she choked, flailing. No. Not like this. She coughed and sputtered, fighting against the paralyzing cold, and managed another two strokes. The boy, he was pulling her down. She glanced at him, where the arm that was no more than a leaden phantom, clung to his form. He was under the water. His face pale, lips blue.

Tears escaped her eyes. He was dead, she was almost sure of it. With a choked, labored sob she flailed in the water again. Dead or not, she would get to shore with him. If she could find the shore. She blinked, her mind hazy, her lungs burning.

Two more gasps of frigid air. Water slipped in her mouth once more. She coughed, and gasped, unable to keep herself afloat. The boy, she forced her head to the side again... only to confirm what she’d suspected. He’d slipped from her frozen fingers. He was gone.

And so was she.

The water, she was unable to keep it out of her mouth, her nose, her lungs. Her next breath was nothing but water. It burned, and she choked, sputtering. It was no use now. She blinked, realizing slowly that she was looking up through the surface. It was beautiful, really. The moon shimmered and flickered — a beacon. No, not a beacon. A last fading glimpse of the world she’d known.

***

“Ellette!”

That voice. She knew that voice. It was the voice of comfort, of home.

“Oh my god, your lips are blue,” he was muttering more to himself than to her. “Ellette!”

She wanted to smile as she imagined his expression. He sounded — wait. Rand. She was with Rand. She gasped, or tried to. Instead, she choked. Her lungs were still full of water. She sat up, her eyes flying open. The next instant, she was coughing up water, torrents of water, onto the floor.

“What the hell?” She heard him exclaim as he held her upright, patting her back as she vomited up the icy liquid from her aching lungs. Once she’d emptied her lungs and sat gasping for air, he held her, stroked her back, murmuring. The words didn’t matter. Only the warmth, the gesture.

Tears welled in her eyes. “I lost him,” she gasped into his shoulder.

His hands stilled on her back. “What?”

“I lost him,” she repeated.

“Who?”

“Him,” she choked. Tears were flowing unbidden now, down her cheeks. “The boy, in the water.” She coughed.

Rand patted her back, holding her trembling body. She clung to that warmth, shuddering violently. She’d been there, just seconds ago. Drown, frozen. Dead.

Now, clinging to Rand, his arms, his warmth cradled her. She was alive. It had been a dream. That was all she needed to bring her into the moment, to leave the horror behind. “You’re okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay now.”

She nodded, tears still flowing down her cheeks. She inhaled, realizing it no longer burned to breathe. He stroked her back, the warmth of his hand burning down her icy flesh. She brought her arms up, trembling, to embrace him.

“Rand,” she whispered, her eyes clenched shut, still weak. “Thank you,” the words were ragged, faint even to her ears. He held her even tighter.

“You’re okay.” There was a hint of a question in that last utterance.

She nodded weakly against his shoulder. “I’m okay,” she whispered, relishing his warmth. “It was a dream.” Though, despite her sluggish thoughts, her fatigue, she knew it was a lie. Dreams were never just dreams. Not for her.